was so secret that only Bormann, Hitler, and a go-between from the political branch were in on it.”
“And who was the go-between?”
Sir George allowed himself a slight smile. “Kurt Nagel.”
“Now it
Sir George shook his head. “I wouldn’t say that. We’ve always understood each other very well. Let me put it this way. I saw that he got his start in industry during the bad days after the war when things were very difficult. In fact, it proved quite profitable for me in the end. We’ve always been on the best of terms.”
“Did you know about his activities with the Nazi underground?”
“Not until recently. When the directors of the publishing firm approached me regarding Muller’s offer, I was trapped. I couldn’t stop their story from getting to the proper authorities, so I decided that the best thing to do was to take it to them myself.”
“That was clever of you,” Chavasse said, “and also dangerous.”
Sir George shook his head. “I’ve been lucky, Chavasse. Incredibly lucky from the beginning. I got in touch with Nagel and told him what was happening. It turned out that he already had a line on Muller from the German end and he arranged the business on the train. It seemed clever at the time. A good way of grabbing Muller and getting rid of you.”
“But you hadn’t reckoned on Mark Hardt.”
Sir George sighed heavily. “One can’t think of everything. I was as careful as I could possibly be. I always acted through Nagel so that none of the others knew that I was involved. And then last night when you told me the girl had the manuscript, I had to act fast, and that unfortunately meant meeting Steiner and taking him to her apartment.”
Chavasse said slowly, “Then it was you and Steiner who took her from the apartment?”
Sir George nodded. “I’m afraid so. Of course you do realize the predicament I was in. I had to see that manuscript destroyed. I’m sorry about the girl – she just happened to be in the way. It was Steiner who shot her – not me.”
“But you’d have killed her anyway,” Chavasse said, “because she knew your secret.”
Sir George nodded gravely. “Yes, I’m very much afraid I would. The only reason I didn’t kill Steiner was because he told me about the Hauptmann business. That made me see some of the remarks you made earlier in the evening, and the visit of that German intelligence chap, in a new light. I decided Steiner was very probably a dead man walking anyway.”
“And you got two for the price of one,” Chavasse said. “Nagel as well. Now there’s only one living person who knows you intended to be one of the dirtiest traitors in English history.”
Sir George nodded and moved round in a half circle, the revolver never wavering for an instant. “Stand with your back against the rail, please,” he said sharply.
Chavasse took his time about moving into the required position, every muscle tensed and ready for action. If he was going to die anyway, he intended to make a move of some sort.
“That’s fine,” Sir George said. “Yes, you’re quite right. You’re the only person who can ruin me. Believe me, I’m sorry about this. I rather liked you.”
He moved back a pace, raising his arm, and aimed so quickly that he caught Chavasse off guard. As his finger tightened on the trigger, the seaman whom Chavasse had noticed a little earlier moved out of the fog silently. His arm swung and the edge of his right hand thudded across the back of Sir George’s neck.
The revolver dropped from the nerveless fingers and as he started to crumple to the deck, the seaman caught the inanimate body across his shoulders. He walked two quick paces to the rail and heaved Sir George Harvey down into the fog.
The whole thing had happened with such incredible speed that Chavasse had been unable to do anything. As the seaman kicked the revolver over the side, Chavasse grabbed him by the shoulder and swung him round – and found himself looking into the pale, impassive face of Mark Hardt.
For a moment there was silence, and then Hardt said calmly, “I think you’d better go down to your cabin, Paul. It wouldn’t do to be seen on deck now. You might be questioned later on.”
“How did you know?” Chavasse said.
Hardt shrugged. “After you’d gone last night, I was clearing up some of Anna’s things. Apparently, she’d been reading Bormann’s manuscript and made notes in Hebrew as she was going along. It seems there was a chapter on Harvey.”
Chavasse turned and looked over the rail, down into the swirling fog. He shivered. “It’s a hell of a way to go, but I can’t say I’m sorry for him. He was directly responsible for Anna’s death.”
Hardt nodded. “This way is better all round. Famous British politician has tragic accident and the country avoids a scandal of world dimensions.”
Chavasse looked at him closely for a moment and then shook his head. “You’re a strange one, Mark. I don’t think I’ve ever really understood you.”
Hardt smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You loved her, didn’t you, Paul?”
Chavasse nodded slowly and sighed. “Not that it did her a great deal of good.”
“I loved her too,” Hardt said. “We’ll always have that bond between us.”
They walked along the deck and paused at the entrance to the lounge. Hardt held out his hand and said gravely, “I don’t think we’ll be meeting again, Paul.”
Chavasse took the hand and held it for a moment. He tried to think of something to say, but Hardt turned and melted into the fog before anything suitable came to mind.
The ship seemed to poise high on a wave, and Chavasse held his breath and for some reason thought of Anna. And then the vessel dipped smoothly down into the next hollow again and he pulled open the door and went inside.
CHAPTER 15
Jean Frazer was typing busily when Chavasse went into her office. He sat on the edge of the desk and helped himself to a cigarette, and waited for her to finish what she was doing.
After a while, she removed her spectacles, leaned back in the chair, and gazed up at him critically. “You don’t look too good,” she said. “Was it rough?”
“Rough enough,” he told her. “Has he read my report?”
She nodded. “First thing this morning. Why didn’t you bring it in personally?”
He shrugged. “I needed some sleep. I don’t seem to have had much time for it during the last few days.”
“What you need is a holiday,” she said.
“That’s exactly what I intend to have,” he told her. “Is he in?”
She nodded. “He’s waiting for you.”
She replaced her spectacles and returned to her typing, and Chavasse moved across to the other door and opened it.
As he closed it behind him, the Chief looked up quickly and a smile appeared on his face. “I’ve been waiting for you to call, Paul. From your report, you seem to have had a hectic time of it.”
Chavasse slumped into a chair. “It was certainly one hell of an assignment. Didn’t you ever have even the slightest suspicion about Harvey?”
The Chief shook his head. “Plenty of prominent people were favorably disposed toward the Nazis in the years before the war. Don’t forget that for a long time Hitler seemed to be doing a good job. There were several politicians who thought like Harvey at the time.”
“He certainly managed to sabotage the operation,” Chavasse said, “and he was directly responsible for the destruction of Bormann’s manuscript.”
“He was nobody’s fool,” the Chief said. “On the whole, I’m glad you handled him the way you did. Saves a lot of unpleasantness all round.”
“You can thank Hardt for that, not me,” Chavasse told him. “If he hadn’t stepped in when he did, I’d have been
